


you act so pure (i know you're laced)

by jishfish



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Body Worship, Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intimacy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pining, Stitches, Tenderness, Tending to Wounds, Touch-Starved, Touching, True Love, steve has glasses bc i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jishfish/pseuds/jishfish
Summary: Billy couldn't take it anymore.He just fell apart."Please touch me." He whispered.or steve tends to billy's wounds at night, no questions asked, and billy really can't be alone right now.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 33
Kudos: 313





	you act so pure (i know you're laced)

“Can you walk?”

That was always the first question Steve asked. It covered the basics: headache, nausea, dizziness. 

Billy stayed on his doorstep, staring at him. Steve still had his hand on the door, hair mussed from bed and only in a thin shirt and boxers, just looking back at him.

The routine had begun five months ago, and for the first time since then, Billy felt so weak he could cry.

He nodded, making a gruff noise as he dragged his way across the threshold. The glow of the night spilled onto the wooden floor of the foyer, Billy’s shadow blocking it out as he made his way inside.

His fingers were numbed from the frost that had accosted every exposed inch of his skin while he had been outside. He couldn't feel the left side of his face, apart from the throbbing of his eye.

Steve shut the door and walked ahead of him into the kitchen. The first aid supplies he kept in the cabinet to the left was spread out on the counter by the time Billy got there, a chair already pulled out for him.

He stumbled on his way into the room, able to walk but his vision still hazy. He heard the faucet turn on and off as he settled into a chair at the dining table. Steve was quiet.

Billy liked that he didn’t ask too many questions, apart from that first night. Then, he had spewed out frazzled utterances of _Are you bleeding,_ _What happened to you,_ and _You’ll freeze your nuts off out here, Hargrove._

Billy had bared his blood stained teeth in a smile and muttered “ _What can I say, misery loves company.”_ Steve just stared at him when he shoved his way into the boy’s car.

Now, Steve knew he was always bleeding somewhere, even if it was beneath his skin.

He came back with a wash cloth, pulling out a chair in front of Billy. He plucked a water bottle off the counter and slid it to him. “Drink.”

Billy had a love/hate relationship with his arrangement he had with Steve. He didn’t know if it was the nighttime, his bruised body, or just the boy himself that made Billy feel fucking _dumb._

Somehow dumb enough to let Steve tend to him with gentle fingers. Dumb enough to let his eyes linger on his face whenever he was focusing on cleaning some mangled part of Billy’s body. Dumb enough to say yes every time Steve asked if he wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom. Dumb enough to not care about the consequences that always came in the morning.

These nights, he was always more broken down in one way or another, a bit less willing to fight Steve on the little things he normally would have. But tonight, the thought of doing _anything_ that could push Steve away made his chest and jaw ache with a pain he didn't understand.

So, he uncapped the bottle, swished the water around his mouth til’ he knew it had turned pink from blood, and swallowed. Steve just scanned his face and body for a moment, assessing the damage.

“Can I see?”

He didn’t know why Steve still asked for permission.

He lifted the bottom of the dark hoodie he had thrown on for the walk over, baring his skin to the warm kitchen light.

Steve leaned in closer from his spot on the chair. There was only some light bruising forming around his stomach, Billy had had worse. Most of the work was put in on his face tonight.

Steve slipped his glasses onto his face, opening and snapping his glasses case closed quietly, knowing how Billy didn’t like loud noises once he got inside his house.

It was something learned over time, and for some reason, it was another reason why Billy felt his throat tighten.

Steve reached his hand out to trace some of it and Billy froze up.

Steve looked up at him, cautious and wide eyed. “Can I?”

He had never asked Billy to touch him before. Not just to see his bruises. He only did it when cleaning up blood, putting on gauze or something. Not just to. Feel.

Billy ignored the shortness of his breath and nodded. Steve’s fingertips made contact with his abs and Billy tightened up, flexing on instinct and heaving out a breath at the touch.

They made eye contact for a moment. _Confirmation_. Billy gave a short nod before looking away.

Steve’s fingers traced along some crimson blooming beside his belly button and Billy fought his urge to wince at the soft pressure against his tender flesh.

Billy’s mouth dried, hoping Steve couldn’t feel his heart rate with how close he was to his chest. He couldn’t tear his focus away from anything but the feeling of Steve’s hands.

“You want ice?”

Billy’s eyes flicked back to him. His heart lurched and he clenched his jaw to force back a sound. He didn’t even want to think about Steve leaving him alone.

He shook his head no, his neck aching at the movement.

“You sure?”

Billy swallowed and nodded again.

Steve looked at him another moment before finally relenting and looking down, hands moving to grab some things off the table. Billy let out a breath.

He swallowed against his dry throat, sipping at his water. He didn’t know why he was feeling so powerless against his emotions. It wasn’t like his dad had done anything particularly special tonight. It wasn’t like Steve was treating him very differently either.

Steve scanned his face before leaning forward, getting a good look at the dried blood on his face. Usually, Billy would back away, or at least mutter a “Get the fuck outta my face, Harrington.” before he let him get that close.

But there was nothing, no urge in him to fight it. So, Steve got within a breath’s distance away from him, reached his arm up to trace over the bruising and swelling, and Billy let him. The way he moved his fingers against his skin _felt_ just as cautious and worried as he looked.

Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. He touched him firm and gentle, intentional but considerate.

Steve took his hands away, looking down to the first aid kit. “Gon’ clean it first.” He whispered, as if he needed to say it.

He moved forward and dabbed a wet cloth onto his face, wiping away crusted blood. Billy leaned into it. He was so tired. He was gonna let Steve touch him and he wasn’t gonna pretend that it wasn’t all he wanted.

The rag caressed his face, rubbing against the blood on his temple, swiping down his sore jaw, wiping against his cheeks. Billy hadn’t been able to stop staring at him since he sat down.

Steve’s gaze was focused on blotting a smear beneath his bottom lip. Most of his hand was covered in the washcloth as it gripped Billy’s jaw, only his thumb working at the spot under his lip.

Billy felt drunk. He didn’t always get this dizzy, but with being in Harrington’s house, Steve in front of him, tending to his throbbing wounds— Billy was fucking spaced out.

He couldn’t keep track of anything, and suddenly, Steve had stopped moving entirely. The rag that encased his thumb rested on his bottom lip. Steve was staring at him.

He didn’t back down, kept his gaze steady on Steve’s deep, wide eyes. Billy watched as Steve’s eyes darted around his face. For a moment, Billy thought that Steve was choking on the same deep, cloying air he was suffocating on.

Then Steve looked down.

“I need to stitch you up.” He muttered quietly, moving away from him.

Billy hadn’t moved his gaze, now just looking at the mop of loose, messy hair on Steve’s head. “Okay."

He blinked, Steve’s words registering. “Wait, what? Why?”

Steve grabbed a few things from the table. “You have a cut—“ He gestured with his pinky, drawing a line down his eyebrow. “It’s deep enough for stitches.”

He straightened up, positioning himself closer to Billy. “That okay?”

Steve had never had to do stitches on him before. It was always water, ointment, bandages, sleep. Then Billy was gone by morning.

But now, everything was feeling drawn out. Now, Steve was acting like he was one of those brats that he took care of, attentive and kind and sure as hell not willing to take no for an answer when it really mattered.

Steve saw the apprehension on Billy’s face, and his posture softened a bit. He adjusted the frames on his face for a moment.

“I’ll put some Neosporin on the other cuts first, yeah?”

Billy clenched his jaw and nodded. He felt a fresh ache tear straight through him, cutting deep into his chest. He ground his teeth together harshly.

He knew that he liked it. He liked not fighting it. It made it feel like Steve was taking care of him because he wanted to.

Billy liked that this space, these late nights in Harrington’s kitchen, lived in some vacuum apart from everything they’d ever done to each other. He didn’t have to be all venom and hard lines, Steve didn’t have to be golden. Billy didn’t talk back and Steve wasn’t as sullen.

When they were here like this, it didn’t feel like there was a spray of gasoline lining every conversation they had, both of them sparking their lighters with every word. It felt peaceful.

Steve dabbed some ointment onto his finger, before reaching over and swiping it across the cuts on his face. As soon as his fingers touched his skin, Billy felt his body fall into him again. The comfort Steve gave him was immeasurable and instant, and Billy fought to keep his eyes open and instead tried to focus on Steve’s face.

He leaned back, eyes tracing over Billy once again before stopping and looking into his eyes.

“You trust me enough to have a needle near your face?” He smiled.

He was joking but Billy’s heart leaped to his throat, his brain blanking out into static.

He didn’t know the answer.

He knew what he wanted it to be, what he always wished for with Harrington. But he didn’t know if that was something that was possible to exist outside of his head. Billy felt his throat tighten up, the organ there choking up his fleshy insides and making his eyes glossy.

He knew that if he spoke, it would come out cracked, garbled, and revealing. He already felt more scraped bare than he usually did in front of Harrington, and he didn’t want to let anymore of that to get out into the air that they were breathing.

So he just nodded.

Steve wiped a needle with antiseptic before threading it, getting it in on the second try. He was steady, concentrated, and Billy hated that he couldn’t compose himself enough to act normal around Steve anymore.

Every time they did this, it was more and more difficult to not just let Steve knead him around like putty til’ he was new and good again. Every time, it felt like something Billy wanted more, just to be rearranged and put back together again with Steve’s hands. For Steve’s goodness to seep into him through his worn edges, to let him rub the twists of wild anger out of his skin.

“It’ll hurt a bit, just try to focus on your breathing.”Steve steadied his elbow on the table, putting his other hand on Billy’s brow bone.

“Just keep still, okay?” He said softly, looking up at him.

Billy almost nodded before stopping himself. “Okay.”

Steve pinched the skin just above his eyebrow together. “If it hurts too much, tell me.”

Billy felt his skin tug as the thread was pulled through, looped over and over. He kept his gaze down, staring at the hair on Steve’s thighs, breathing deeply. It looked soft and he wanted to run his hands up his legs.

After a while, he felt the movement on his face stop before hearing Steve snip the thread and pull away.

“There you go.”

Billy chanced a glance up.

“All better.” Steve smiled softly.

Billy grabbed at the water bottle he had sat aside. “Thanks.” He muttered before taking a deep swallow.

Steve dug around the first aid kit for a moment before pulling out a bottle and shaking it, rattling the pills inside it. Billy reached for the bottle of painkillers but Steve drew his hand back and unscrewed the cap instead.

“Gimme your hand.”

Billy stopped for a moment, just looking at Steve’s expectant smile.

His grin grew wider. “C’mon.” He urged softly.

Billy stretched his arm out and Steve gripped his hand, flattening out his palm as he shook a few pills into his hand. His fingers were gentle and Billy felt every pad of Steve’s fingers slide across his skin as he pulled away. His chest seared with pain again.

Billy swallowed the pills and a lull settled between them. He knew that it was time for him to go. That Steve would ask him if he wanted to take the guest bedroom, which he would inevitably say yes to, and he’d have to split down the hallway and spend the night alone.

Billy cleared his throat, trying to cover up the pathetic sound he felt growing in his throat. The thought of having Steve _right there_ , but being unable to reach him made Billy feel reckless, like an exposed wire, blazing and on the brink of self destruction.

He couldn’t have that. Not tonight.

“You look tired.” Steve muttered softly, looking up at him from his ducked head.

Billy almost laughed. He just stared at him, willing the words to edge themselves out of the hiding they’d been in for months.

It felt like Steve was waiting for him, not saying anything else and Billy felt overwhelmed with it all. The time ticking by, Steve’s brown eyes on him, the heaviness of the air, the screaming want that was making his skin itch and burn— it all made Billy feel like he couldn’t breathe.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” He pushed out, cracked and said all too fast.

He cringed at his jumbled brain’s choice of words, the inflection all wrong. He shot his eyes down to the tile floor, unable to watch Steve’s big eyes behind the glasses that were slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Sure.” He said. Easy, like he had been waiting for Billy to ask.

“Wanna go now?” He asked, shoving his glasses further up his face before standing up.

Billy couldn’t nod his head fast enough.

He followed Steve up the stairs and to his door, feeling heavy from a type of anxiety he was only just now noticing rising up in him. It was like crossing unspoken borders. Everything he’d done with Steve since he stepped into his house tonight felt different, felt charged.

Everything felt like there was more behind it than what either of them were saying, and Billy could suddenly feel his heartbeat in his ears

“You want left? Right?” Steve’s voice trailed out as he wandered by his bedside table, gesturing to the bed with his hand.

Billy was still stood by the door, watching Steve putter around the dim room. The bed was messy and unmade, dark green comforter bunched up and pushed to one side, the desk scattered with papers, and the floor dotted with clothing.

It was the only room in the house he’d seen that looked lived in.

“Y-yeah.” Billy muttered, walking into the room.

Steve raised his eyebrows at him as he took his glasses off and folded them up.

“Left is fine.”

The lights were turned off, the curtains drawn shut, and both of them slipped underneath the covers.

Billy was rolled onto his side, facing Steve’s back. With being closer, feeling the heat radiating off of Steve’s body, Billy could barely force out more than the few weak shallow breaths his lungs wheezed. His heart was choking his throat at the mere image of Steve before him, slanted light from the window bathing his body in a blue glow.

Billy was _aching._ He wanted Steve to look at him, to not feel so far away, to see how ruined he had become, how desperate. He needed Steve to know what he did to him. How twisted up into bloody knots he made his insides, making him into someone addicted and in love with the cause of his own downfall.

He wanted it again. He wanted to know what it felt like.

And it was like Steve knew, could feel Billy’s plight at this close a proximity, and suddenly he was turning.

He faced him, the light now brushing across his face as he looked at him.

Billy couldn’t take it anymore.

He just fell apart.

 _“Please touch me.”_ He whispered, barely even there. He sounded like he was already crying.

The room was quiet. Steve blinked at him once, twice, letting the air strangle Billy’s throat before he was moving. Steve didn’t say anything as he slipped an arm underneath Billy’s waist and wrapped another across his shoulders and back, pressing their bodies up against each other.

Billy fell into his warmth, just holding onto him. He buried himself against his shoulder, breathing him in and already wishing he didn’t have to let go. It was the first time he had ever held so much of Steve at once and he quickly realized that this was the only thing he was sure of.

If he could choose, Steve’s arms wrapped around him and holding him like he was the most important thing in his world, would be the only thing that Billy would ever want.

“More.” He muttered gruffly into his shirt.

Billy grabbed one of Steve’s hands that was secured around his back and brought it up to his stomach, fingers shaking at how he was touching him so deliberately, so openly.

He held onto his wrist, his grip on him quivering from how tightly he was holding him. Steve was simply letting him. An illusion of control.

Steve always had the power over him, never the other way around.

Billy gasped out a breath as he pushed up the bottom of his hoodie before finally moving Steve’s hand and resting it underneath the fabric. Billy’s pulse jumped at the heat that Steve’s palm gave off, how gentle he was. Billy was drenched in his own desperation and Steve knew it, and he was acting like he didn’t care.

He felt Steve’s hand against him, rubbing across from one end of Billy’s waist to the other, his touch firm against his abdomen. Billy felt his grip on him relax just enough. Steve never stopped moving his hand along him. He was there with him, alive, breathing. 

Billy started to roll off of his side, and he felt Steve move with him, pressing his hand against Billy’s stomach so he would lie on his back. For a moment, he wasn’t as close as Billy’s body was begging him to be, and his fingers started to shake against what little of Steve he had.

But Steve shushed him softly, resting his face in his neck and breathing him in, just as Billy had done to him. He could feel Steve’s nose nudging against the space beneath his ear, his breath brushing his neck, unlabored and easy.

Billy pulled away, just enough to see his eyes. He felt like sea wreckage, tossed around and washed up and drowned and wrung out over and over again. He wanted to know if Steve saw it, saw how much he could affect him.

He remembered the first time he saw Steve’s eyes at night, the way they crystalized. How the color became deeper, how they looked like they had turned to glass. But with having him hovering over his body, pulled back just enough for Billy to see how attentively he was watching him— Billy couldn’t help how he choked out a sob at the sight.

He shut his eyes, pressing the tears further back against his lids, refusing to let himself cry and unable to stand watching Steve stare at him like he mattered to him. Like he wouldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Steve brought his hand to Billy’s cheek. His fingertips were light, Billy knew that they had hardly made contact with his skin, but he was shaking at the touch. He felt the pads of Steve’s fingers graze his cheek before holding him in his palm.

He ran his thumb along the curve of his jaw before grasping Billy’s worn, grey hoodie with his other hand and pulling it up to Billy’s chin. Immediately, Steve’s firm hand smoothed up his chest and Billy’s breath shook as he breathed out.

Billy was out of his mind. His heart felt exhausted from beating so hard, so tirelessly, leaving no room for relief when Steve’s hands were on him.

He never stopped. Steve just looked at him, running his hands along his waist, his abs, his chest. His fingers dragged along his skin, leaving biting trails of _want_ and making fire linger behind them. Billy was overwhelmed with it all.

Steve’s touch was gentle but full of intention, like he was trying to rub comfort straight into his belly. His voice, suddenly, cut through the silence of Billy’s stiff breathing.

“How does this make you feel?” He asked, his eyes boring directly into his.

Billy immediately bit his tongue.

“I can’t tell you that.” He whispered.

He found himself hoping that even in the dimness, Steve could see his own protective concern reflecting in Billy’s eyes. He wanted Steve to know that he mirrored it, that Billy cared for him far more than he could ever begin to fathom.

That he didn’t know how to say it, he didn’t know how to show it, it just _was_. It was embedded in him, part of his being. Steve was stuck, lodged in Billy’s heart and already lacing his veins and nothing would ever be able to get him out.

Billy needed him to know, even through the gloss of thick tears that were close to breaking across their threshold, that he would be whatever safe haven Steve would ever need. All he had do was ask.

Steve stared, that same trusting gaze. He touched with caring fingers. Billy trembled at his mere presence.

“Is it because you don’t know? Or because you don’t wanna tell me?” Steve’s voice was straightforward, firm. He could see right through Billy and he knew how easily Billy let him.

Billy finally, finally closed his eyes. His lids burned against them at the release, tears spilling down the slopes of his cheeks and then rounding down to drip off onto his lips. Billy held in the sobs that were pleading to be let out, wanting terribly to claw across his throat and rattle against his chest.

Billy knew he couldn’t open his eyes now. Not when Steve was so composed and he was so overrun with rampant emotion, scraped red and raw. He could barely even open his mouth, afraidthat a cry might escape him, that he would be exposed to be an untamable thing, a mess that only teetered between ugly extremes.

Billy thought about not answering him. About letting the words dissipate into the air, for this whole night to be forgotten and pushed away deep into Billy’s memory to live on and for it to slip out quietly from Steve’s.

But he couldn’t help but notice how this sewage of desperation that was spewing out of him made him cling to Steve tighter.

And Steve? Steve didn’t seem like he minded. He was pushing it along, giving Billy what he wanted, what he ached for.

Billy couldn’t help but feel the hope that was recklessly sputtering to life in his chest. Barely there, but enough to be noticed. Enough for Billy to want it and loathe the way that he wanted it.

So he took a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut. His voice came out weakly, cracking deeply even in a whisper.

“Steve,” He breathed out, feeling the name for the first time in his mouth. His body warmed at how it knew the gravity of the word, how speaking it to Steve meant something.

“I can’t tell you what it feels like because saying it out loud makes it real enough to disappear.”

Billy’s voice was shaking, and he rushed all the words out far too quickly, too softly. Steve held onto him as Billy bared his soul. He held him as Billy’s slippery organs willingly spilled out into his open palms, hoping they would be safe there.

Steve brought his forehead down, resting it against Billy’s. He smoothed his hands across his bare body one more time before pulling him in and hugging him closer.

God, if only he knew how Billy worshipped him. His existence, his breath, the stroke of his thumb, his lips brushing Billy hair as he moved his body upward, moving to touch more of him without even having to ask.

Nothing in the world had come as close to Billy as Steve was right now, holding his vulnerable, dirty heart. Encasing it between their chests and safeguarding it, protecting him.

Billy knew he couldn’t love anyone else the way he loved Steve.

“Baby,” Steve breathed into his hair.

And that was it. That was enough.

That was all it took for Billy’s mouth to crack open, a sob loudly breaking past his lips and into Steve’s ear. He tugged the boy closer, his arms shaking from how tightly he wrapped them around his body.

Tears spilled relentlessly, broken, pitiful cries escaping him one after another, Billy finally unable to stop their reign. He was soaking through the shoulder of Steve’s shirt, stuffing his mouth against the cotton in an attempt to quiet himself.

Steve’s arms were wrapped around Billy’s neck, hands twisted into his hair, carding through the curls at his neck. He lifted his body up barely an inch, and Billy pushed him back down against his chest, unable to let him go now that he had him in his grasp.

He had wanted and wanted and wanted, and he was finally getting it. Steve was here, breathing and touching and speaking, saying things that Billy never let himself think about more than once.

“Billy,” Steve whispered. “It’s okay.”

Billy didn’t let him go. Wasn’t even close.

He felt Steve’s pressure above him localize, more of it going towards the side of his head. Then he realized that Steve was kissing him, pressing his lips to his blonde hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Billy sobbed against Steve’s wet shoulder. He didn’t let go of him, but he took away some of the force behind his hands, enough to let Steve move around above him.

He felt Steve’s forehead press against his and Billy shut his eyes. He knew he was red faced and tear stained and he couldn’t bear to look at whatever expression Steve would have on his face at the miserable sight of him.

Steve’s forehead dragged down to his temple, his lips soon following. The kisses were chaste, gentle, and never more than a few seconds long but it felt like Steve meant them.

His lips followed the line of his face, the space beside his ear, the angle of his jaw. He smoothed his hands down Billy’s arms as far as he could go before lifting his face away. Steve’s whole body weight shifted and Billy forced his grip to cease, to let the boy’s body slide across his hands and not grab at him like a child.

He was sitting up in Billy’s lap now, his hands dragged down from his neck to rest upon his chest. Billy’s breathing was ragged and he stared at Steve like he was a god.

Steve’s hands skimmed across Billy’s stomach before stopping at his waist. Neither of them could look away from the other’s gaze.

Then, he gripped Billy’s wrist from where his hands rested on Steve’s hips, and pushed it up underneath his shirt.

Billy swallowed, feeling the softness of Steve’s stomach, the gentle lines and creases of it, the subtle toned muscles buried underneath his skin. Billy couldn’t help himself as he dragged his other hand up and underneath as well, both of his palms feeling along the expanse of Steve’s abdomen.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered closed and Billy let his gaze swoop down to where he was touching him, looking like a wet dream. Brown hair curved onto his forehead, neck jutted out just enough, legs bracketed across Billy’s waist as his own hands groped at Steve’s stomach like he was skimming across hot sand; almost too hot to touch but eager to sink his hands deep underneath.

Steve’s hands found his wrists again and Billy stopped and looked up at him. Steve tugged at his arms before leaning his body backwards. His back hit the bed and Billy scrambled to sit up, leaning over and hovering above Steve’s body.

“Come.” Steve said, hand pushing at Billy’s waist a bit.

Billy went, moving to sit across Steve’s waist, knees pinching the boy’s hips.

It was give and take, push and pull. Steve letting Billy touch him like this was literally him being belly up, trusting him. It was him saying _See? Look what you can do to me._

Billy shoved his shirt up to Steve’s chin, careful to do the same things to Steve as he had done unto him. It was understanding. Him saying, _I know. We’re equals._

Billy let his large, calloused hands press into Steve’s stomach and drag up to his chest, feeling the warmth flowing beneath them. He smoothed his hands over his stomach, tracing over his belly button and pecs, feeling Steve’s chest swell with his breath.

Billy wanted to say something, for his voice to croak out a noise that let Steve know how much this meant to him, how badly he wanted more, how much he loved him.

Billy couldn’t even imagine saying it out loud. But he knew he would be nothing without Steve.

Billy knew he was destined to be the dust kicked up by truck tires on an empty backroad. To be the dim, flickering neon lights in a hole-in-the-wall bar at closing time. The bullet hole dented _DEAD END_ sign on the side of the road.

Steve made him naive, though. Gave him childish hope and rubbed warmth into his cold, dry hands. Steve couldn’t have known how he had shocked Billy to his knees when he roared into town.

By now, he must have.

Steve had to know how badly Billy needed him. How much he cared for him, how grateful he was for his existence.

Because when Steve breathed out _“I wanna kiss you,”_ all heavy and blissed out, Billy felt like he could die.

He didn’t think, just surged forward, sucking Steve’s lips into his mouth and knocking their noses against each other. He felt Steve’s hands come up and drag his fingers against the back of his neck before twisting them in Billy’s roots.

Billy’s breathing was rushed and deep, adrenaline kicking up and flooding his bloodstream. Both of their hands were moving, feeling along each other’s bodies. Billy leaned his forehead against Steve’s and held his face in both of his hands before pressing their lips together again.

There was a tugging heat overtaking his body and Billy felt engulfed by the sensations— taste, touch, smell, all of it— it was making his chest constrict and head throb with emotion.

Steve was so close and yet not close enough and the tears that had trailed down Billy’s face had already dried but he was beginning to feel a fresh wave rising up and tightening his throat. It wasn’t even hard this time, they just spilled out past his eyelids, already knowing what it felt like to not be held back.

He was overwhelmed and his brain was scrambled and but Billy wouldn’t let himself care, not when Steve was right here, kissing him, making him feel cared for, wanted.

He just cried, pressing their lips together harder, tugging Steve’s body closer to his chest. He whined into his mouth, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck tightly.

He felt Steve start to draw back but Billy refused, chasing his mouth before he had even really pulled away. But Steve dragged his lips off of him and leaned their foreheads together, giving Billy another point of touch to focus on.

“Don’t.” Billy said immediately, voice breaking. They felt like the first words he had spoken in years.

“Baby,” Steve whispered again, and Billy felt the tears well up again.

“Don’t.” He said again, a different meaning this time.

_Don’t call me baby if you don’t mean it._

_Don’t go away._

_Don’t tell me to leave._

Billy shut his eyes, fresh tears rounding down and dripping off his nose. He felt Steve’s hands on his cheeks, steadying him and tilting him down to look at him. Billy couldn’t help but let Steve will his eyelids open.

Thumbs rubbed against his cheeks gently. Steve was looking at him with tenderness softening his big eyes.

“Billy…” He whispered.

Billy’s tears must be dribbling off onto Steve’s thumbs by now, but neither one of them seemed to care.

“Billy, breathe for me.” He said, smoothing Billy hair away from his face. “In and out, baby. Okay?”

Billy shut his eyes, letting ragged breaths drag their way through his lungs. Steve’s hands never left his cheek, never stopped brushing his hair back.

He eventually heard, “There you go, baby. That’s it.”

Billy’s heart was tired. He felt like every organ in his body that was trying to keep him alive had been working overtime for days straight. He knocked his forehead against Steve’s, letting their breaths drift past each other’s lips.

Steve leaned forward just enough to let their lips graze each other. Billy’s breath stuttered at the contact, but he let their lips just rest against each other, breathing the same air.

Billy always felt clogged up, in his throat, his heart, his head.

Steve was what pushed the blockage to the side while scrambling it around to confuse Billy in a different way. He was the relief of most and yet the grief of some, some that Billy didn’t think he’d have to confront here in Hawkins.

Yet here he was, body pressed up against the one boy he wanted, breathing the same air, skin against skin, and an ache settled deep in his chest.

Steve made him want to try. Made him want to ignore the inevitable, the dirt and the lights and the dents.

Steve made him want to change the story.

He only hoped he could be enough to make Steve apart of it.

“Stay.” He whispered.

Billy meant a million things when he said it. Was begging Steve for anything he was willing to give him.

Steve nodded against his forehead and kissed him.

Billy could only hope he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for a few months now and im really proud of it so please tell me what you think ! love ya !
> 
> tumblr: softjish


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